


Embalming

by FelineJaye



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: (kind of), Blood, Body Horror, Bondage, Bruises, Bugs, Cannibalism, Chemical Weapons, Claustrophobia, Crass language, Cult Insanity, Depreciating Language, Eye Trauma, Gore, Gore fic, Humiliation, M/M, Medical Play, Mortician!Daniel, Mutilation, Necrophilia, POV Max, POV Second Person, Suicide Idolisation, Watersports, demeaning language, morgue, teeth pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelineJaye/pseuds/FelineJaye
Summary: Daniel fakes a lethal accident for Max, allowing him to whisk the surly boy away to the safety of a morgue where he can properly cleanse him of all his negative emotions.An unapologetic gore fic. Check the tags and proceed with maximum caution.





	Embalming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cryptanalysis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptanalysis/gifts).



> I paused writing 'Living With Max' so I could indulge with this.
> 
> Please, oh gosh, please check the tags. And I may have missed a few so please proceed with caution.

Finally, you wake up.

There are voice above you but when you try and open your eyes to see who it is, you find you can't. It feels like your lids are glued shut. You start to panic, to try and thrash, but your limbs are equally unresponsive. Worst of all, you realise your heart isn't even beating faster, you lungs aren't breathing harder.

You're not sure if you're breathing at all.

The voices sharpen and you feel the warmth of a lamp shine on you from above. You want to grimace, give a characteristic scowl for which your known. You can't even twitch.

"I'm so sorry. There was nothing I could do."

You know that voice, but only faintly. You know them, but not well. Who...?

Someone is crying, bawling their eyes out.

_For fuck's sake, David, pull yourself together._

The thought comes to you before you realise it and things click into place. David is crying. Why is he crying.

"We know. We read the reports. I'm sorry we had to let you go. But, well..."

And that's Gwen. What are the counsellors doing here?

"I understand. Wouldn't want to put the camp at risk now, would we?"

Why the fuck is this guy so chipper? Why--

_Because he's some kind of David clone._

Of course, you remember who that voice belongs to. It's Daniel, the bleached version of David that arrived at camp. What happened?

"Bu-bu-but why di-di-di-did he ha-ha-ha-ha-have t-t-t-t-to die!"

You drown out the rest of David's sobbing.

Die?

What do they mean, die?

"It was an accident, David. Like Daniel said - nothing anyone could've done."

You're not dead! What do they mean die?! You're not dead! No, no no, **no!** You're not dead!

You're **_alive!_**

You hear them leave. You hear one set of foot steps return. Your eyes are pried open and you are met with the glasgow smile of Daniel's face.

"Hello, Max. Are you comfortable? Do you feel good?"

You want to widen your eyes in fear or anger. You can't. You're stuck.

"I know you can't answer. Perks of being a mortician - you get access to all sorts of wonderful chemicals. Embalming chemicals. Chemicals that make all your muscles seize up. That make you look dead to anyone. Anyone except for a trained mortician."

No.

"See, I couldn't have you ruining my plans. But then I realised that you weren't just going to Ascend like a good little boy. You needed something more... thorough. So I made sure you ended up here."

You have to get out, you have to struggle, to fight back. You have to escape.

You want to shake as you feel Daniel drag a finger done your chest. He traces a Y incision over your torso and then continues dragging his finger down until it catches the sheet over your waist and drags that down, too. He flicks it off, onto the floor, and the warm fluorescent light from above kisses your bare skin.

You're naked and you can only flick your eyes to follow Daniel's hungry gaze.

He traces his finger down past your little cock and he uses his hand to move your legs open. You can't feel your feet when they move, you can barely feel your thighs as he pushes them aside. Daniel looks you up and down like he wants to **devour** you. You want to shiver with fear and you **still. can't. _move_.**

Suddenly there's a dull feeling in your thighs. Four, five, ten points of pressure. You learn what it is as Daniel lifts up your legs and you see his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. You can see the indents, a halo of red and white around each fingertip as your sluggish blood responds. You can see what he's doing and you know it should hurt. That should hurt. But you can barely feel it at all.

Slowly, he pushes your thighs back until your knees meet your ears and then he gives one last _squeeze_ and steps back. Your legs don't move, still and heavy where Daniel positioned you. You're bent in half and he can see you absolutely laid bare. He grins at you and his grin won't stop it just stretches and stretches up into his cheeks until he looks like a Chesire cat. His eyes are half-lidded, indulgent.

You suddenly hate that you know how to circumvent Safe Search locks. You wish you'd never looked up how sex worked. You wish you didn't know what was coming.

Daniel steps out of view, walking somewhere else.

There is that fluroescent light above you - a lamp on a stand next to your... Your stretcher? You're not sure what you're laid on, only that it's hard and provides no warmth. The room around you is a sterile white, the walls and ceiling tile with disturbingly clean grout. There are more fluroescent lights along the ceiling. They buzz but they don't flicker.

You're scared for the second time in your life.

This is worse than seeing old people have freaky, kinky sex. This is **far** worse.

If you move your eyes right to the corner of your sight, you can see silver metal cupboards along the wall behind your head. The cupboard doors are small and almost square-shaped. You don't know what they're for.

Daniel returns. He's still wearing his crisp white shirt but he's removed his lab coat. He steps up onto something and you look down the sight of your naked body to see his stiff, hard cock standing up to attention. He's not wearing his pants any more. His cock has a glistening sheen and it takes you a moment to realise it's been slicked with lube.

Slicked with lube, pointing at you, ready to fuck you.

You try to vomit but your muscles won't contract _they won't move_ **you can't move** _oh god_ **oh fuck** _shit_ **damnit** _no_ _**you can't move**_ \--

"Don't worry about a thing, Max." Daniel voice drifts to you from a great distance, "I'll fuck all those bad feelings right out of you."

He smiles at you as he pulls you to the edge and stuffs you onto his cock.

Your mind screams because your throat can't.

You can't feel him breaching you, but you can feel every inch inside. He's too big, far too fucking big. He's stretching you out, pulling you over his cock. You feel like he's tearing you in half, burning up your insides with every scrape along the walls of your arse. You're full, more than full, you're over flowing and- _oh fuck oh shit there's **more**_. It feels like an eternity until you're dull sense of feeling tells you that his pelvis has hit your rear, his entire cock nestled deep inside you.

You can feel your intestines protesting this decision. You don't know how to tell them that this isn't your choice, that some mad man has drugged you and is raping you and that you can't shout and yell and hit and scratch and bite him because you can barely **breath**.

You gently rock as Daniel pounds into you, leaning over your prone form, not that he needs to exert any extra force to keep you bent in half. Your legs keep themselves open and spread up near your head of their own volition. He drags his thick, hot cock out of you and you feel every agonising inch - you feel this damning emptiness as he leaves you. You finally feel your heart beating at a rate somewhat resembling normal.

He pushes back in, hard and fast enough that you'd scream if you could. Daniel seems to sense this, laying and arm near your head and pushing his thumb into you mouth, carefully pulling your jaw down so that your tongue lols out, extra spit pooling in your cheek and spilling over out the corner of your mouth. He removes his thumb, wiping the spit on it in your hair like he's using you as a napkin. Your mouth remains open like your legs remain open. From your maw you can hear your wheezing almost-breaths.

Daniel's breath is speeding up and his nails are digging into your hips as he pulls you against his dick, sheathing himself in you like your some novelty cocksleeve. Like you're just a silicon toy that he's using in his slow hours at work.

Then you feel a burning warmth - far warmer than the rest of you is. Daniel above you is panting, his mouth hanging open, and you can see a line of drool hanging from his mouth. It falls lower and lower until the weight becomes too much and it drops right onto your cheek bone. It rolls down your round cheek and over your top lip, falling into your mouth. You see Daniel try and grin above you, his panting preventing him from doing so effectively. He soon manages to close his mouth, swirling something inside around. Then he puckers his lips together and a large glob of shiny spit leaks out of his mouth and falls heavily from his mouth right into your still-open mouth. You feel it hit your tongue and dribble into your cheeks and down the back of your throat.

The man above you laughs breathlessly.

Then he pulls out of you in one motion and you almost feel like you've been pulled inside out. He pushes, pulls and lifts you back up the bed you're on and wraps his fingers around your ankles to pull your legs back down so that you're laying down once more. He has to push your knees down separately, your muscles stiff. He leans down, pulls the discarded sheet from before up and arranges it over your hips. Then he lifts the bottom and you realise it was folded in half.

He smiles at you as he unfolds it, raising it to your chest. Like he's tucking you into bed.

"I look forward to seeing you later, Max."

But he keeps raising it, until it's over your face. He puts a hand under the sheet, two fingers gently petting your eyelids and pulling them down, hiding his saccharine visage from you. Then he drapes the sheet over your face, tucking it in around the sides. You hear a click and then the sound of a drawer rolling open or closed. You can feel the bed under you moving, feel it sliding back.

You realise what the metal doors where, the wall of them above your head. The drawers for the dead.

The drawer that your in. Because as far as anyone but Daniel knows, you're dead.

You hear the drawer shut and as it does your tray judders slightly, enough that you start to feel Daniel's cum leaking out of you, running down your arse.

* * *

You don't know how long passes.

You know that Daniel doesn't always close your drawer properly. You're sure he does this purposefully. He leaves it ajar, enough that no one would notice and enough that you can hear the people outside.

You hear innocent people, friendly people, kind people, responsible people. You hear Gwen and David one more time. You don't hear your parents. That hurts and you're surprised you had any care for them left in your heart to be broken.

None of them find you, none save you.

Daniel pulls you out of the drawer after the people leave and he kisses you on your mouth.

You are going to die here.

The third - or fifth? - time you are pulled out of the wall and opened your eyelids, you realise there is a smell. You realise this smell has been there for hours now, but it's only the contrast of the sterile room that lets you realise. Daniel looks down at you, clicking his tongue.

"Still you seem determined to be _dirty_ , Max."

Your mind is slow. You haven't moved since you woke and at this point you're not sure if it's the chemicals or your own rigor mortis keeping you stiff. He hasn't fed you. Your stomach aches is so constant now that it barely registers. You can hardly feel the pain, anyway.

It takes a long few moments of this bleached doppelgänger studying you for you to realise what the smell is. You've pissed yourself. You don't even know when.

He pushes your legs back again, like he's done before, bending you into position. You don't feel it as he breeches you, you only feel the searing flame of the head of his cock fucking your arse, rubbing against your inner walls and coincidentally rubbing against your prostate. The bundle of nerves feels more than the rest of you. The arousal hurts like a branding iron.

He finishes with a sigh, fresh cum painting itself over old, crusted cum.

It stinks foully, a stronger acid than the bleach of the morgue. The piss stinks acidly too, though differently.

With just your eyes you see Daniel shake off the last bits of cum onto you and your shelf, then you see him heft his cock a few more times, seemingly considering it. He looks up at your eyes.

"Well, since you're so insistent on being disgusting."

He turns you around then, after a moment, he presses your legs back down so that you're laying down again. Your head almost hangs off the edge of the shelf, your neck supported by solid surface under you. Daniel dips a thumb into your mouth and you wish beyond anything that you could bite down, bite his fucking thumb right off. Flood your mouth with his blood and make him **scream**.

Instead the upper half of your head drops open as he looses your jaw and you have a horribly fantastic view of Daniel's half-hard cock pointed at your mouth. You can see it flushed with blood, his cream-white skin stained with strawberry as blood fattens it up. Something in your stomach manages to roll over in disgust as you realise he expects you to take that in your mouth.

Sure enough he edges forward, but stops to rub the head over your teeth, rubbing it over the fronts and along the tops of them. Then your reaches in to pull your tongue up and out of the way, covering your bottom teeth. Thus prepared, Daniel pushes his fat, clean cock into your mouth.

He thrusts shallowly into your mouth, your small child's mouth only really above to hold the glans of his cock. You can see as he dribbles spit onto his dick and fucks it into your mouth, making you wet. You have barely any spit yourself.

You can't remember when you last drank.

You _feel_ it when he hits the back of your throat and then as he _pushes_ past that point, stretching your throat open. He settles a hand over your throat and you think he's drumming his fingers along your oesophagus  feeling his cock distort your young throat, feeling him fuck you apart and scratch the skin of your throat.

He pulls out to your mouth, fucking shallowly once more, then pulls back even further. Daniel rests his weight with one hand next to your neck, the other on his slick, wet cock as he frantically strokes himself. The grotesque sound echo in the sterile basement room. You can't even blink as he cums across your face, painting you in white.

White cum, white shirt, white skin, white hair, white tiles, white room.

But Daniel isn't done this time. He pushes back into your mouth, into your throat, **down** your throat. He's cock hasn't gone properly flaccid yet and it has just enough stiffness to push passed your constricted throat muscles. Or he actually snapped your muscles when he throat fucked you just then. You don't know if you'd feel the pain of muscle snapping if it happened.

He doesn't thrust, doesn't move. Just sits there for a moment. Then you hear a long, satisfied sigh and you feel something in your throat.

He's giving you water?

No.

Oh. Oh **fuck**.

You thought you wanted to vomit before but now you really mean it. You don't want to vomit out of disgust (though that's partially it), mostly you just want to vomit to get **that** out of your stomach and out of your body.

Daniel is pissing in you. Using your mouth like a urinal, using your body like a toilet. It goes on for agonisingly long. Has he been holding this in? You don't know, have no way of knowing.

He pulls out, eventually, and you're still alive enough to have a sense of taste because you can taste the off-acid of his piss as the last few drops shake off into your mouth. Only those drops stay in your mouth, the rest he's pissed right into your stomach. You're full of it and you'll stay full of it because you can't move to empty yourself.

He lifts your head, closing your mouth, and gently pats you on the cheek.

"That's a good boy. Much easier than walking up to the toilets. I should use you all the time. Even my urine must be more pure than anything in you. It will be a nice _cleanse_ for you."

And then he turns you back around, closes your eyelids and drapes your sheet over your face again. He locks you away in your drawer, a foul sex toy he's tucking away until he wants to use you next. You need to throw up.

You need to hurry up and die.

* * *

Music is playing when Daniel next pulls you out of the wall. You are delirious. You have forgotten what potatoes taste like. You have forgotten the taste of malt shakes. You have never had a malt shake. This seems irrelevant.

The music echoes, it sounds of organs. You think it's church music.

Daniel opens your eyes for you and you realise you cannot see properly. Something approaches your eyes, fast, but you have no hopes of dodging out of the way. You feel him blow gently on your face and your vision begins to clear. He's given you eyedrops.

"You're getting real dehydrated, Max." he tells you in his chipper tone, "Getting rid of all that toxic water you've absorbed since being born!"

He strokes the side of your face. His other hand travels down his front and you're familiar enough with his movements to know that he's reaching for his crotch. Sure enough, you hear his belt clink.

The music continues to pray for you. You want to tell it that there are no gods here, only monsters.

Daniel turns you around, dipping your head off the side of the tray again.

"Shh... Don't worry, Max. You'll be seeing clearly soon enough."

His dick bounces gently at your eye height. There's a weird sheen over his penis and it takes you a moment to realise that that's what a condom looks like. You know what they are, you've even seen one before. Just never on a hard cock. You see his hand hold the base, holding down the latex.

"Sorry about the barrier, but you're starting to become infectious. I wouldn't want your toxins in my clean body."

He moves closer, the head of his cock coming only closer to your sight. To your eye.

Oh no oh god oh no.

You eye blurs despite your best efforts, one eye seeing the side of his cock and the other seeing it far, far too close. You don't feel it when it presses against your bare eyeball. You feel the strain on your eyelids, on the skin around your eyes as he presses in. You don't know what he's trying to do, this isn't a hole, it's not an orifice, he can't fuck this.

But he presses forward and you can almost feel the flesh of his fat cock pushing past the bone of your eye socket. He thrusts, shortly, shallowly against your eyeball, a wet sound of suction as he pulls back. Then you feel his hand on the back of your head, his fingers catching on your thick hair as he grabs a handful. Your free eye spies his hand moving up to hold the head of his dick in a steadier grip.

He presses forward and this time you **certainly** feel it. Pain blooms behind your eyeball but he keeps pressing forward, only stopping to thrust into the movement. A dead scream haunts your throat as you feel the force of his cock begin to crush your eye, the nerves holding the orb in your skull straining and screaming as the soft organ is smooshed into your eye cavity.

Then there's a loud 'pop' and all resistance to Daniel cock disappears  He jerks forward, suddenly hitting the back of your eye socket. You feel fluid dripping out of your socket, dribbling down your temple and into your hair.

He sighs, moans, above you, and the thrusting continues. It can't be comfortable or even pleasurable. Your eye socket can barely contain the head of his dick. But Daniel enjoys himself anyway.

He pulls away without cumming, but he's clearly just drawing it out as he turns you around and parts your legs. As your head is righted, you feel the fluid around your eye reorientating to smear around. You automatically try and blink but your eyelids don't respond. Your vision is flat, somehow, your sight limited.

As Daniel pushes himself into your arse you realise he squished your eyeball, fucked the organ into smithereens against your skull. That's why your vision has gone wonky - you've only got one eyeball left.

He lifts up your small, stiff body and holds it against him, fucking up into you with fire. He holds you tenderly, as if this was a romantic embrace while the pair of you make love.

And not some batshit crazy cultist raping you, the almost-corpse of a ten year old.

In your ear he whispers;

"You're so pretty, Max. Prettier than I ever could of imagined. I know this is working, purifying you from the inside out. I really am fucking all the toxins out of you. Oh~" he bubbles with a giggle, "Excuse my language. You must despise words like that now."

You can feel gas inside of you shifting around as he holds you upright for the first time in days. Your body sits strangely, utterly limp but stiff from some kind of psuedo-rigor mortis. Your surviving eye looks over Daniel's shoulder. You can see the radio still playing that choir music.

No gods, just monsters. Just devils and corpses. No salvation.

"You should see your body, your legs, oh gosh darn-it your thighs, Max!" he gives a particularly enthusiastic thrust, "You look like galaxies, ones already cleansed by the victor Zeemuug. You're such a pretty motley of blacks and blues and purples and a dapple of yellow on top."

He holds you tight and you can feel his fingers digging into your ribs. Making more galaxies in your skin.

"Your face is going pale, little fella. Your lips are such a pretty shade of blue."

He presses forward and kisses your lips, then leans back and reachs one arm up to pinch up your jaw. He pokes inside your mouth and you taste sterile latex - he's wearing gloves. Gloves on his hand, gloves on his dick. He gets to cover up put you're left bare, falling apart, your body breaking apart as you slowly waste away on this slab.

He pinches your tongue and tries to pull it out but it's swollen in your mouth. At least he won't be able to fuck your throat any more. Or piss in you. You hear his displeased sound and you feel like you've had a small victory. He leaves you drooling precious water from your lips as he hugs you tight again, fucking up into your arse with a fevor.

"It's going to be so good when you finally get to ascend, Max. Do you understand, yet? It's going to be so perfect. You'll feel so good, you'll have none of those negative emotions weighing you down any longer. I bet you just can't wait to feel happy for once in your life!"

* * *

Your drawer stinks. The acidic-burning smell of Daniel's cum burns the hairs out of your nose. You can feel it crusting down the crack of your rear, dried in the creases of your crotch. You imagine you can feel it festering in your throat. You can judge the passage of time because the fresh cum he fucked into you yesterday has stopped dripping.

Your drawer is abruptly pulled out, the fluorescent light overhead already on and glaring down at you. Daniel spins you around, something clenched in his hand. He pulls your head down, opens your jaw and it's with some satisfaction that you feel your fat, swollen tongue squelch out of your open jaw.

_Try fuck through that you insane motherfucker._

He grabs the tip of your tongue, pulling it out as much as he can. He seems rushed, pressed for time. From this angle, partially hanging off the tray, you can see that his belt is already undone, his fly partway down.

He twirls the thin, long metal thing in his hand around a finger, manoeuvring it so as to hold it almost like a pencil.

It is not a pencil. It is a scalpel.

He doesn't talk to you this time. The room is silent. He isn't careful when he shoves the sharp implement into your mouth. You feel your tongue cut before pain shatters your thoughts. The scalpel saws through the back of your tongue, cutting each ligament of muscle one at a time, slicing it apart. Blood pumps faster than you thought it could, gushing out of the wound as he keeps cutting.

The cutting pain stops, leaving only the sharp pain of the open wound. You see him remove his hand and in his hand is your tongue. You see his hand toss it lightly and then feel something wet and solid land on your stomach.

Daniel pushes his pants apart, lifting his limp dick out of his pants. He's hopping a little from foot to foot. There's no sign of a condom now, as he pushes into you.

His dick violates your mouth and your blood betrays you as it slicks the entrance to your esophagus. He pushes the soft flesh into your throat, pushing it open. There's a pause and then he stops hopping from foot to foot. He groans above you.

"Thank goodness. I was about to piss myself." he mutters to himself.

Reduced to a toilet, again. A bleeding one, this time.

You're feeling woozy.

He pulls out, a few drips of urine making it into your mouth. He pushes forward shallowly once more, looking thoughtful.

"But while I'm here..."

Your blood slicks the outside of his cock while his blood fattens him up. You can see his stomach heaving with breath, the blood dripping from your mouth getting him hard.

Your cycolopic vision is going patchy, black spots darkening your sight.

You feel him push back into your throat, face fucking your small, helpless, limp-rigor body.

You blackout while Daniel uses your body, uses you for his own pleasure, cleanses you inside and out.

* * *

You do not wake up.

* * *

You are afforded one last dignity, when the rest of it has been stripped from you.

You die in your sleep, unaware and without pain. Your body succumbs to the physical trauma, the starvation and the dehydration. You slide into the morgue's drawer alive and then before you come out again you're dead.

It is the last dignity you are afforded.

* * *

"Good evening, Max!" Daniel cheerily greets your corpse.

He still takes to you, like you're still there. He doesn't know.

"And how are you, tonight? Feeling good and clean, yet?"

He snaps on gloves, over his hands and over his penis.

"Aw, Max. Still not yet? Well don't worry! I have plenty of nice, cleansing activities planned for us tonight."

He turns you around, your head facing him, and starts by fucking into your mouth. Your gums have receded, pulled away from your teeth. Your gums are weak, rotting as you start to die. The chemicals in your corpse are stopping it, interrupting the process. It's not happening properly, happening oddly and out of order.

His hard cock pushes passed your blackened lips, pushing into your teeth, wiggling them. As his thrusts get more firm, get faster, your incisors are pushed loose, pulling out from your gums and into your mouth. As he pulls out two of them tumble out of your mouth onto the floor. He reaches in with a gloved thumb and rubs at your teeth and gums, wiggling the rest.

Daniel leaves and returns with a kidney dish.

"Let's just get rid of those nasty little things, now, shall we?"

He wiggles your teeth loose, pulling them free of the gums. They drop with a clink and a clatter into the metal dish. The gums have only a weak hold on the chips and shards of dentite, the nerves of the teeth themselves the strongest hold they have to your jaw. Daniel severs them with a brief tug. He runs a finger along your empty gums when he's done, pressing his pointer down into the cavities of your pink flesh, prodding the holes in your jaw bone, under the gum.

"Much better." He grins and pushes back inside your mouth.

He leaves the full condom in your mouth when he's done, not bothering to tie it up and letting his putrid, bleach cum leak over your mangled mouth.

He doesn't turn you back around this time, just walking around the slab, looking at you from different angles. He trails his hand down your side, drumming over your ribs like a stick over the pickets of a fence. You'd shiver if you could move your body or were alive. A single finger scratches a nail over your hip bones, tracing a blooming bruise on the outside of your thigh. It moves back up you side and then stops to press in on your floating ribs.

Daniel smiles at you.

He pulls a scalpel out and easily pushes it into your skin, slicing from brown into a dull red. The cut doesn't even reach down to your hip bone and it only reaches an inch into your flesh. Enough to cut open your skin but not enough to cut **you** open. Then he pushes down again and flesh starts to part like cold butter under a boiling hot carving knife. The scalpel pushes down under the pressure of his hand, sawing and slicing your skin and fat away from each other, the stringy bits holding you together snapping away to part at his behest.

Then his hand jerks forward and you know he's gotten through the outer layer of flesh. He lays the scalpel aside and plunges his latex fist inside instead, wiggling his fingers around like he's fingering you. You guess he sort of is.

His other hand pats at his limp cock, the touch and the sight of his home-made cunt in your side enough to get him up again. He rolls on another cock before he pushes inside you and you imagine you can feel the head of his cock prodding against your intestines. His dick fucking into your guts, moving your digestive tract around, rearranging you.

He doesn't leave that condom inside you, but he does turn it inside out and empties it contents amongst your guts, mixing his cum with your blood and fluids.

Daniel does go to your other side, though, and makes the same sort of incision, clearly ready to fuck your guts again. He leans down to kiss your blue lips and remains leaned over, staring at your one ruined and other glassy eye, his hand wrapping around his dick and frantically jerking off to the sight of your rotting corpse.

"You're going to be so beautiful."

You're glad you're dead. Except you wish you were alive.

No one cared enough to tell you that when you were alive.

Just your luck.

* * *

Daniel has shredded your thighs, flaying their insides to the bone. He has ripped the flesh from your arms using just a measly scalpel. He has stuck your mouth full of metal and rattled your adult teeth out of your skull.

You saw him suck on them, like they were a gruesome novelty candy.

He made holes in your cheeks, chewed them off carefully with a guard protecting his mouth. He keeps telling you you're being cleaned but he still won't let his bare self touch you. He's cracked your shins under the weight of a mallet. He gave you fifty-four bones in both your hands.

You're smeared with his spit and his cum and your stomach is bloated with his piss. Your blood has finally drained to the underside of your body and it just leaves more room for him to paint your insides with his clear, shiny spit and his pristine, white cum. You are filled not with ounces but with pints of cum and spit. It slicks the inner walls of your flesh and mingles with your organs like it belongs there.

You are Daniel's toilet and his cumdump, his garbage bin in which to dispose of whatever gross fluids he decides to grace you with.

You thank him, one night, as he pisses down your throat and drools over the rough stitches down your chest.

* * *

It doesn't take long for him to pull you out of the drawer and immediately recoil, coughing and choking.

"Oh, golly! Well that is just **foul**! Goodness, Max, I thought we had moved passed this!"

You're dead. What does he want you to do.

"Well, I suppose you're in the Ancients' arms, now."

He doesn't fuck your body, doesn't fill you with anything more. He pushes you back into your drawer, returns some time later. He covers you and drags you out to a graveyard by the funeral home. He drops you into an unmarked grave. No one will find you here. If anyone mourns at your grave, you are not under it.

Daniel leaves you in a hole in the dirt. He leaves you for the worms to crawl in and out of. For beetles to carve tunnels through what's left of your flesh. He leaves your stomach to collapse and slop acid and piss all over your remains. He leaves you for your skin to turn putrid and blackened, for yellowed pus to pour out of your cuts and hastily-stitched wounds like whipped cream from a canister. For ringworms to chew up your organs and eat what's left of your eyeball. For your chest to cave in, your lungs to wither to tatters, for bugs to eat through your long dead grey matter.

Daniel leaves you, Max, to wallow in filth forever.

* * *

Daniel owns a white house with a white picket fence and a short, neat lawn in a respectable suburban neighbourhood.

The décor is modest but aesthetically pleasant, the same way a show floor is.

He sits at his small dinner table, his more colourful doppelgänger across from him. He tried to invite Gwen, but apparently she still didn't-- _like_ \-- him.

But David did. Because he is a moron.

Daniel smiles at him as they cut into the meal he's prepared for them. Roasted lamb's heart stuffed with mushrooms and bell peppers. Seasonal vegetables are artfully scattered around the other side of the plate. David has brought the non-alcoholic wine and it seems to go well with the meal.

You wonder if Daniel is hard under his dining table, as he watches David devour your heart.

Daniel may be eating lamb but your counsellor tears your roasted flesh apart with his canines and incisors, ripping your heart apart into bite-sized morsels, swallowing you down into his gullet. He tenderises your flesh beneath his molars, massages you into a pliable mush with his tongue before swallowing you down. Sometimes with a splash of the so-called wine to help you splash into his stomach and dissolve in his stomach acids.

David eats you like you're noting more than a cow to him, an animal to be hungrily devoured.

You don't matter as anything more than food or a fucktoy, anyway.

And now you only matter as food for the beetles and worms and maggots.


End file.
